Veg food isn't scary

Category: Vegan

At brunch with the super smart, funny, talented and all around good person, Stacy Michelson we dove headfirst into this relaunched, 100% vegan, pub in Downtown LA. Easily agreeing on two cocktails to share, we sat back to enjoy good conversation and me accidentally smashing a glass candle holder. After the candle mishap, we shared the Accidental Guru ($13)—a blend of Jameson with forward notes of peach liquor, tempered with ginger, lime, and hefeweizen, served on the rocks—and the Trinidad Sour ($13)—a boozy crush of Redemption rye, angostura bitters, orgreat, and lemon served Snoopy sno-cone cute with a polkadot paper straw.

I’m about to let you in on a secret: I am a suckers for tater tots. This innovation of waste management grip my heartstrings in its crisp chunky nugs. And so Beelman’s Tachos ($10) were an absolute outcome of brunch. The pan comes loaded with fried tots topped with soyrizo, cashew cheese, salsa, gochujang crema (although we had a hard time singling out this element of the mountain), housemade pickled jalapenos, bird’s eye chili pinto beans, and a toupee of cilantro. Carby and warm, with just a hit of spice, this is exactly what what I crave in pub food.

The appetizer portion of any menu is usually the best part. It is because apps are designed as small flavor packets meant to satisfy in one or two bites—such as these, the Wonton Mee Bites ($6). Golden arms of deep fried wonton wrapper reach up and around domino-sized cuts of smoked tofu. A sweet and tart balsamic reduction glistens over a base of sriracha aioli, all under a confetti of green onions.

The least successful dish of my brunch was the only actual brunch dish we ordered: Harissa Says It All ($15). Slivers of fried grits and seared tofu with togarashi—a japanese chili pepper—atop roasted potatoes with rainbow carrots and kale tossed in a mild house-made harissa. This dish simply didn’t live up to the complexity and kick that harissa promises. As for the fried grits, I would pay for just a plateful of these deep fried, sweet corn filled, shards.

We debated this choice. Neither Stacy nor I had yet tried the Impossible burger. Unsure if Beelman was where we should rip the hyman of this darling-of-mainstream-hype, our eyes locked and we decided: No, this would not be the one.

While ordering we mentioned that we had never tried the Impossible Burger.

“But you must! ” Vance said.

Apparently that was all it took because as you can see, we order a Classic Impossible Burger ($16). Slathered with chipotle aioli, a fat red tomato slice, spring greens, pickles, and spicy ketchup which is was thankfully not very ketchupy because ketchup is a garbage condiment and yes you should be ashamed of liking it. The burger party was thinner then I expected (have we all been spoiled by the girth of the Beyond Burger?) and… umm, well—OK, let me acknowledge here that it’s been at least 25 years since I’ve eaten cow. But, like many of us, I have vivid memories of the flavors of youth which in my case did include cowburgers. So, to my self-assessed strong sense of food recollection, this did not taste “just like meat.”

For me, this burger confirmed what I’ve suspected about the Impossible Burger—that it’s a high quality product benefiting from awesome PR and the sudden societal interest in WFPB “healthy” eating. This burger got lucky. Riding on the What the Health tailwind, there is a strong desires by vegans and omnis alike to believe it is a near undetectable substitute for cow. Personally, I don’t think it is. This burger’s miracle of science story and the corroboration of “non-bias” (aka not vegan) media has coddled hordes of omnivores into finally feeling it is OK to say a veggie burger tastes good. So I am very happy to complicity nod and smile when omnis tell me how much they love this vegan burger*.

But I think the real issue here is form. Because since this meal I’ve had Impossible meat in a shepherds pie—and there, there it tasted like eerily of beef. Without the palate numbing loaf of bread, and the 3:1 ratio of vegetables to meat, the irony tang of heme stands at the forefront of each bite.

Because we are gluttons, after all this food we went on to share an Ice Cream Sundae ($8). Scoops of Vanilla and Honeycomb Van Leeuwen ice cream drizzled in guava sauce, topped in coconut whip cream and eared with deep fried, wonton wrapped, sweet plantains. While I think ice cream is a weak dining-in vegan dessert (dear restaurants: please stop serving sorbet as a vegan, gluten-free, healthy catch-all. It is boring as f***) this was a light yet flavorful finale.

Under the twinkling trees and against the rustle of climbing ivy, we perused the wine list. Our fingers faltered over a lovely 2013 Preston Petite Sirah (Dry Creek Valley, Sonoma​ County, CA) that was so nice we ordered it twice.

From day one, at the top of the Santa Monica Mall, Plant Food and Wine has been serving these Kimchi Dumpling ($16). Dehydrated cilantro and coconut skins folded over a soft paste of fermented kimchee, cashews, tahini, and ginger. The plate is finished with dollops of ginger and sesame milk foam, micro greens, and a twirling flick of red cabbage puree thinned out with kimchi juice. While the name implies heat, there is none to be found in these tender—almost sweet—bites now served in a non-mall atmosphere befitting of the price point.

Two Chinese-style folded rounds of sweet white bread with a tacky glazed finish make up The Steamed Buns ($14). The fluffy bread is folded around A: Smoked tofu, napa cabbage, and pickled chili with a miso mustard; B: Oyster mushrooms, scallions, and pickled cucumber with a cashew hoisen glaze. I can see how these complex yet delicate flavors made their way to the menu. But priced at $7 a piece, I also understand why they are no longer there.

Though the Cashew Raclette ($14) does not remotely resemble the gooey lava flow of a traditional raclette, the warm cultured cashew creme, glazed in tart brine, melts into the crevasses of the wholesome bread and is easy to share among friends. Served with grilled slices of Lodge Bread, petite gherkins, and a radish-parsley garnish that drives this dish further from it’s name and deeper into likability.

A man bun of marinated kelp noodles slick with black pepper cashew cream, slivers of sweet snap peas, and delicate curls of pea tendrils make up the Cacio e Pepe ($21). A swath of pea puree lays base under the sandy sprinkle of crisp, oil-cured, olives and pink arugula flowers.

Yes this is a whole serving of the Apple Pie with Caramel Ice Cream a la mode ($12). That’s not meant as a jab, I’m just stating fact. The raw halfpipe of pastry shell is layered with sweet and tart peeled apples with cinnamon, caramel sauce, and a quenelle of rapidly melting ice cream. I’ve repeatedly lamented the state of vegan desserts in restaurants but can say that at least this one is making an effort to be interesting.

To wind down the wine we shared a Turmeric Latte with frothy house-made almond milk laced with ginger.

While overall the dishes at Plant Food and Wine were quite good, at the end of the evening prices gore everyone’s bank account. While food quality and knife skills are what we’ve been groomed to believe we are buying, what one actually buys at Plant Food and Wine—and at any fancy high end restaurant—is status. The right to see and be seen sitting here, high in the corner booth, cocooned by twinkling lights and fluttering olive leaves on one of America’s most exclusive streets. We are the ones who have made it. Who through hard work and moxy—but mostly blind luck and inheritance—get to congratulate​ ourselves on making the good choices in life.

Swollen with naivety and fortitude, in 2003 I moved in New York City. I knew few people so though nothing of the 90 minute subway ride from Bed Stuy to the Bronx to see a familiar face. The reward for this proved to be much more then conversation, it was my introduction to an iconic NYC dish: General Tso’s Tofu. A quintessentially Chinese-American sauce—cloyingly sweet and salty with soy—shellacked on cubes of deep fried soft tofu, scattered with ornamental dried chilies, and strewn with lightly steamed broccoli. To be cliche, it was love at first bite.

During my NYC tenure I ate this dish frequently—about 52 times a year—but moving to California killed the affair. Not because my heart no longer yearns for glazed crispy tofu, but because it seems no one else in San Diego’s does. General Tso’s Tofu is near impossible to find*—although I have a good source in Los Angeles, made with soy chicken, if you are so inclined.

Enter Debora, who queued me in on a source to quench my craving: Chopsticks Inn. The restaurant is built on the pan-Asian kitchen of Annie Chui and retains all the charm of it’s 1988 debut. They don’t have General Tso, but it’s close enough. It’s close enough…

Before we hit fryers, lets take a moment to honor the perfect execution of this classic 1960’s Chinese-American dish: Vegetable Moo Shu ($12.25). Prepared table-side, the thin flour pancakes are spread with sweet and pungent hoisin sauce then stacked with sautéed vegetables and rolled burrito style by the waiter using only a set of spoons. On my last visit the waiter shooed me away from this dish, swearing that commercial hoisin sauce is not vegan. This lead me down an internet rabbit hole of research from which I emerged knowing that in Chinese hoisin literally translates to”seafood” or “sea freshness” but today’s rendition of the sauce contains no seafood nor is it used on seafood. I also scoured the ingredients of various restaurant grade hoisins and could find none that were not nominally** vegan.

No matter how much we insisted we were cool with hoisn the waiter was having none it. Moving on to purer pastures we tried the Vegetarian Dumpling ($6.55). Slicing one open I halted consumption, sure we accidentally got chicken. Waving the waiter over I showed him the interior looking to confirm my suspicion. Instead he explained that their “vegetarian dumplings” are not “vegetable” but are instead filled with minced soy meat mimicking a chicken dumpling. Relieved we devoured them with the fresh ginger laced soy sauce. They were okay, rather bland. I would have preferred a minced vegetable filling… which leads me to believe that maybe vegetable dumplings are simply better then chicken ones, vegan or not.

Although there is no General Tso on the menu, the Sweet and Pungent Chicken ($12.55) keeps me coming back. Battered soy chicken fried crisp and enameled in a sweet pineapple, soy, and chili sauce with chunks of pineapple and broccoli. While I’m not sure what makes this dish pungent, it otherwise hit all my happiness receptors.

The sticky sweet Orange Flavored Sauce Veggie Chicken ($12.25) is a close second. The same battered and fried soy nuggets are tossed in a glassy orange sauce with chopped celery and plated with charming orange slices and maraschino cherries.

On one particularly indecisive day, we mulled over the menu unsure of what to get. The waiter saw our fret and recommended the Sauteed Fresh Asparagus with Beef ($12.75). We were hesitant but he insisted, promising this was one if their best vegan dishes. Proudly he presented the wok kissed asparagus tossed with slivers of carrot, onions, and tears of vegan beef glistening in black bean sauce which up until then I thought I hated. But I don’t hate it. At all.

In fact, I now love black bean sauce. Until Chopsticks Inn I assumed the black beans in question were the same kind served with rice at Cuban restaurants or Chipotle–I know, naivety persists. This black bean sauce is composed of pungent salt fermented black soy beans, soy sauce, garlic, and some other wonderful things.

This is the waiter. I should know his name, but I don’t. I do know his father is vegan (including the omission of onions and garlic) and that no mater how much he huffs about Chopsticks Inn not being a vegan restaurant, he is one of the most accommodating waiters I’ve have the pleasure of dining with.

Mello vibes fill the fair-trade cups lingering on the cafe tables at Mamacoffee on Vodičkova. I order a cup of standard brewed coffee—yes, I like my coffee boring—because it seemed the thing to do; but I was really here for the food.

I’ve always liked dumplings. But the Varenyky se Smazenou Cibulkou, Koprem a Kyanou Smetanou (80czk / $3.25usd) permanently propelled me towards a lifelong infatuation. I seek these dumplings wherever I go, but have yet to find ones to match the majesty of Mamacoffee’s. A wreath of Ukrainian-style dumplings—thin tender sheets of dough stuffed with mashed potatoes and onions—come topped with a delicate pinch of minced caramelized onion and a confetti of fresh dill encircling a dollop of vegan sour cream. Even now, it’s painful to think I only order (and shared!) one serving of these. There are very few item I have 100% confidence recommending to all people—this is one. You would have to be some kind of monster who hates pure joy not to enjoy this dish.

My basic brewed coffee served on a sliver tray with a dainty glass of water. We sat along the window line, basking in dappled winter light streaming through the greens, at rest with nose-in-book students and politely gabbing girlfriends. Mamacoffee was a sheer delight that I should have punctuated with a double order of dumpling.

Art filled walls surround diners in San Diego’s Fairouz Cafe & Gallery, by owner Ibrahim Al Nashashibi, and numerous vegan options fill the hot and cold trays of the all day Greek and Lebanese buffet (Lunch $12.99 / Dinner $15.99). All clearly marked and generous, the buffet makes for an easy-to-dine-together meal for difficult groups—but for those not partial to food sitting out all day, there is table service as well.

And the table service is exquisite. Cafe level friendliness with handsomely plated portions of masterfully executed Mediterranean favorites. The Hummus (Small $5.99 / Large $7.99)—rich and creamy with nutty tahini, a splash of lemon, and a drizzle of olive oil—is a lovely as can be found in San Diego. The Falafel (Small $5.99 / Large $7.99), golden and pale with more chickpea then herb, comes with marinated red cabbage and a knob of salad.

Large chunks of baked eggplant, mixed with tomatoes, parsley, and garlic, all marinated in lemon juice and olive oil make up the Mufasakh (Small $6.99 / Large $8.99). Generous and easy to share but still, I’d probably skip this dish in the future.

A Fatoosh Salad ($6.99) is a welcomed addition to any meal. A crisp pile of chopped romaine lettuce, tomatoes, onion, cucumber, mint, and parsley with crisps of toasted pita and tossed with lemon juice and olive oil.

The Baba Ghanouj (Small $5.99 / Large $7.99) is top of the line. A luscious puree of smokey eggplant, tahineh, lemon juice and garlic that is a must order.

Perhaps the best dish is the Dolmathes ($7.99). Brined grapeleaves rolled up with rice, chopped tomatoes, onions and parsley that taste like kisses of Mediterranean sea air in a San Diego strip mall. In fact, it may be worth getting the buffet just to gorge on this fat thumbs of joy.

One of the biggest fights of my life occurred after someone asked “What is your favorite cuisine?”

After a pondering pause—with pizzas, banh mis, and pad see-ew fly through the flavor pockets of my mind—I said:

“Ethiopian”

To which they rebutted, “Ethiopian is not a cuisine.”

Let the gospel rain upon that poor naysayer. Ethiopia, and Ethiopian cuisine is an insanely rich and diverse historical treasure that speaks to my eternal taste buds. If you want to know to know more about the history of Ethiopian food, I recommend checking out Harry Kolman’s bookMesob Across America.

Awash Market is easy to pass by, as I did, and I did many many times. With booze, coffee, flour, toiletries in the front it’s easy to overlook the outstanding food in the back. Once I overcame my intimidation of the convenience store en suite dining room, I found a kitchen that excels at all the Ethiopian vegan classics. Regarding the vegan options, while some traditional recipes call for clarified butter, the staff here has repeatedly confirmed that they proudly use oil as the fat in all their veggie dishes.

Injera – Made in house, the tender rolls of sour fermented wheat and teff are some of the freshest I’ve ever encountered. They are available for sale in the front market, and fly off the shelf for good reason. A gluten free, 100% teff, version is available if the kitchen is given a few hours notice.

Miser Wot – Split lentils and spicy red pepper brought together in a coarse and oily stew. The grease soaks through the injera base creating a sodden treat once the bulk is gone.

Kik Alicha – A mild split pea stew with onion, garlic and turmeric that tempers the palate between spicier bites.

Shiro Wot – A gorgeous slurry of ground chickpea flour, berbere, and tomato. Soft and silky on the tongue and by far my favorite dish at Awash. This treat is not usually offered on veggie combinations platters at other restaurants, so I relish receiving it as a baseline selection at Awash.

Ye’abasha Gomen – Spiced collards greens that often taste rather muddy to me at every Ethiopian restaurant. This one is no better or worst that the average gomen offering out there.

Tikel Gomen – Sweetly braised cabbage, potatoes, carrots and onions with cumin, turmeric, and ginger. This is my second favorite dish at Awash.

Green Salad – Sometimes this isn’t on the platter—which is a shame. The light lemon dressing on the romaine, tomatoes and onions is notably more harmonious then the weird Italian dressing so many other Ethiopian restaurants tend to use.

Berbere – Sometimes the kitchen adds a mound of powdered and a dollop of berbere paste to accent the heat of the dish. If you like your food spicy, be sure to request these.

Helming the Studio City kitchen, Jerry Yu delivers vegetarian—mostly vegan—dishes devoid of mock meats and omnivorous similes. Yu relies of the breath of organic fruits and vegetable adorn with nuts whipped into luscious sauces. On paper the preparations sound simple, but they comes together like magic on a plate.

Roasted Red and Golden Beets with Reed avocado, baby greens, pickled jicama, and shaved radish in a lemon garlic dressing. The earthy beets take center-stage, supported by the buttery avocado and peppery greens. The dish makes only the lightest alteration to already perfect vegetable embracing the spirit of the restaurant’s name.

Grilled Corn on the Cob with guacamole, brown butter, Sriracha aioli, coconut sour cream and a light dusting of chives. This dish will enviably leave one with messy hands, but isn’t wiping aioli off your face and licking the brown butter dripping down your arms part of the joy of the summer corn harvest?

Duo of Seared Maitake and Beech Mushrooms over a red pepper creme with wilted spinach and crispy sage. Now, I strongly dislike mushrooms. I despise their very existence and squirms at the sight of every single variety, in every preparation, by everyone*. So as lovely as these are (and yes I did take a bite) this is not the dish for me. The spinach, on the other hand, was perfect and I happy gobbled that down while everyone else ate these seemingly delicious ‘shrooms.

Teetering on the edge of being charred oblivion, the cast iron Roasted Brussel Sprouts at Vegetable continue to delight me. Their feathered fringe nearly black, these cruciferous vegetables retain a tender green core. Soaked in the juices of yellow peach and red onion, the sprouts burst in your mouth. The char is spiked with basaltic, crispy gluten free bread crumbs, and bright lime zest creating dynamic forkfuls with every pass of this dish.

I was caution of the “healthy” brown of this artfully stacked Eggplant Lasagna. But the layers of thin eggplant, baby spinach and cashew ricotta made a plausible likeness to its pastaful namesake. Drizzled with a vegan alfredo, the stack balances on a mound of garlic sweet potato purée with pickled sweet onion and heirloom tomatoes strewn upon the balsamic painted platter.

In the shadow of the Culver Hotel, the wellspring of Matthew Kenney’s Make Outquietly places vegan—mostly raw—foods in a glass front case for viewing. The shelves offer a colorful selection of huge rolls of green, tiny rolls of carrots, flatbreads, and bowls of kelp noodles. Further back, stainless steel holds two daily soups. Samples of both were offered to us and the velvety Creamy Carrot Ginger Soup—drizzled with cashew creme and crunchy pepitas—leaped to the top of our order.

In heyday of NYC’s Pure Food and Wine, Kenney dazzled me with his dehydrated jicama pine nut sushi rice rolls. So I couldn’t pass up his new rendition, the Spicy Carrot Rolls, with jalapeno cream cheese and shredded carrots. Stuffed with red bell pepper, cucumber, avocado, and young pea shoots these cool and crunchy bites almost lived up to expectation.

Wraps—especially collard green ones—are the crutch dish of vegan cafes. So I was least excited by the Cobb Collard Green Wrap. But my trepidation was unfounded, this wrap is exceptional. A massive collard husk filled with crisp romaine, sweet and smoky coconut bacon, meaty portobello, creamy avocado, and ranch. I would definitely order this sucker again.

I always thought North Indian food was my jam, but I’ve quickly fallen head over idli for South Indian cuisine! Chennai Tiffins is now my favorite Indian restaurant in San Diego. The food is simple, made with mild hands but with a soft complexity that comes through if allowed. Plus they are always super accommodating when I ask for my food to be prepared without ghee.

I love to start with an order of Idlis (steamed lentil and rice cakes) with sambar (unlimited and free!) and an array of chutneys. I’d come here for the chutneys alone! Rich bowls of tomato, peanut, mint, coconut, and ginger that span the range from sweet and mild (coconut) to punchy and hot (ginger)… although none are over the top spicy.The tomato is my favorite, but there is something here to please all palates.

The Spring Dosa—a fermented lentil and rice crepe stuffed with tomatoes, onions, cabbage, carrots, cilantro and chilies—is my top pick. The light balance of the crisp veggies against the soft tang of the crepe suites me greatly. If you order this be sure to emphasize no ghee…this wasn’t one of the dosa the waitress originally offered me as vegan-friendly but I pressed her on it because it’s my favorite combination. When she brought it to the table she proudly proclaimed “With no ghee!” and gave me a reassuring smile.

The Poori with Bajji, one of the vegan as-is dishes floats to the table on air-filled pillows of deep fried bread with a cup of potato curry. It’s great option for those who think Indian food is too spicy.

Anahre Kara Dosa is a simple lentil and rice flour crepe slathered with red chili paste. The slow burn of the chili lets the fermentation of the dosa shine.

When I’m extra hungry I also order a plate of Samosas. The two peaks arrives sprinkled with cilantro, chopped red onion, and kala namak (black salt) and are finished off with a squeeze of lime. I never thought to add lime to a samosa, but the fresh acidity deeps the earthy spices within.

Special Rava Dosa with potato masala is also favorite of mine.

Or there is the simple the Onion Rava. This crispy sheet of editable lace made of rice flour and cream of wheat, flecked with sharp and sweet red onion, is addicting.